Sicuramente, La Mia Bello
by myheartsegg
Summary: A drunk Italy was never a good thing, but who knew? They've never seen him drunk before. Maybe this will be Germany's (and Japan's) chance to find out. One-shot and rated T for some language and suggestive content. ;)


In advance, sorry for sucky Italian. I have a headcanon that the Italy brothers use a mixture of Italian words and Japanese/English!~ (You can find the translations at the bottom, or Google Translate)

A bit of Crack, and a bit not. Depends on how you view it. ;)

* * *

Romano was never really that close with his brother, Veneziano. It was a known fact that sometimes he even denied his existence. But for some reason, today was different. He had felt this overwhelming need to eat North Italy's pasta and spend time with his brother.

And so, that was what he did. He called him up and bluntly told him he was coming home and his brother responded with squeals of delight and a quick slur of '_I'm gonna make-a the pasta right-a now!_' before he heard the click of the phone call end.

As courtesy of going over, he brought out some strong alcohol for the wine cellar and a mysterious paper bag that he received from Spain who told him to give it to Veneziano when he had the chance.

When Romano reached Veneziano's house, he opened the door with a flourished swing, knowing the door wouldn't be locked.

"Veneziano! I'ma here! Where are you damn it?"

"Ah, Romano! Vee~ I'm in the dining room, I'ma almost done making the pasta!"

"Bene," Romano responded in the direction of where his younger brother called out to him while he took off his coat and hung it on a wooden coat rack.

Romano walked into the kitchen and saw that Italy had set up the table with their national colours of green, white and red. It was charming.

"Sedersi, mio fratello. I have the pasta," Italy sang, sweeping through the kitchen with two plates of steaming pasta in either hands. He mentioned Romano to sit with a nod of his head, a pleased look on his face.

Romano took a seat while Italy placed his plate in front of him with a flourish.

"Oh, I forgot the drinks!" Veneziano stated easily, and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Hey, I have the wine here," Romano yelled at his brother before he could run into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards for wine.

"Yay! Let's drink and eat the whole night!" His brother chirped, clearly happy.

The two Italian brothers dug into the pasta, twirling their forks full of pasta with expert precision.

"I hope we get to do this more often!"

"What ever you idiot, just eat and drink some wine."

Romano poured the wine and failed to notice the strong scent that wafted from it due to the strong scent of tomatoes and herbs coming from the pasta.

This of course was not a good thing, as after just a few glasses, even with the Italy brothers' famous tolerance to wine (almost rivaling that of Germany's tolerance to beer) they were buzzed and on the brink of being drunk.

Their movements grew increasingly sluggish and downright off balance. Italy even failed to shove the last bit of pasta into his mouth, and instead managed to get it all over the front of his blue uniform.

"Aaaahhh~ I got pasta sauce on my clothes. I should go change..."

"Hey, I have some clothes that Spain gave to me. The bastard told me to give this to you."

Italy took the brown paper bag from his brother's hand and peeked at the contents.

"Hmmm?" Veneziano's head tilted to the side before his face broke into a giant grin. "Veeee!~"

North Italy began to strip right there, and pulled out the content of the bags. After dressing himself with it, he said, "Thank big brother Spain for me. Now let's Siesta!"

* * *

Germany was walking up the sidewalk to Italy's house and noticed a drunk Romano stumbling away from the door mumbling, "Siesta baby!" while jiggling his hip in awkward circles.

Germany paused, hoping desperately that Italy was not in the same state. The blonde man jumped when Romano's head popped up and his eyes narrowed on him.

South Italy smirked and uttered, "Mio fratello sta andando ottenere qualche tempo felice in camera da letto stasera ~"

Leaving a thoroughly disturbed Germany (and Japan who came along for the visit), Romano hollered over his shoulder, "And I still hate you, you potato bastard! Better take care of him, damn it!"

Germany could still hear his grumbles about a 'macho potato' even after reaching Italy's door. He stood there in stunned silence, a headache starting to form.

"Would you rike me to ring the doorbell, Germany-san?" Japan intoned quietly.

"Ah? Oh, yes, thanks." The tall man muttered, still rubbing his temples with one hand.

Before Japan could even touch the small button on the side of the door frame, the white door flew open and Veneziano greeted them with, "Ciao! Germany, Japan! How do I look?"

Italy was wearing something completely unexpected. Actually, it was horrendous.

The young man was posing for them now with a mock salute and his head tilted to the side while his left leg was lifted gaily. One hand was lifting the side of his pink sparkly mini-skirt.

Germany gaped. From top to bottom, Italy was wearing clothes that sparkled every time he moved. The light that glared back at him was actually starting to get annoying.

The yellow bead necklace he wore jangled obnoxiously, and the tube-top he wore was the same shade of yellow in the middle, with green and pink stripes lining the edges of the top and bottom. Written across his chest were bolded letters spelling 'BELLA'.

Possibly what caught Germany's attention the most was the knee high purple boots that revealed the delicious curve of Italy's calves and the outline of his thighs.

"Ahem." Japan coughed politely when there was nothing for him to say.

That seemed to bring the German back out of his dazed staring long enough for him to yell, "VWHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT?"

Italy grinned and slurred, "Pasta!~ Si, bella!"

"The corors compretery crash, and the mustache does nothing to compriment it." Japan observed calmly.

The mustache... So this was Romano's doing.

Italy, oblivious to the situation and his friend's distress, started to dance the macarena, and slowly sidled up to Germany in a suspicious way.

The blonde merely sighed in resigned frustration and groaned, "Italy, vwe must get you into bed-"

A smirked passed Veneziano's mouth, and he coyly wrapped his arms around Germany's neck, pulling him down.

With the added height from the heeled boots, Italy had no trouble delivering a heated kiss directly onto his favorite person's mouth, savoring the taste of beer and musk and _Germany_.

"Sì il mio amore, mi porti a letto e farmi piacere," Italy breathed into Germany's ear, dragging him toward his bedroom by the hand.

Germany stumbled along, muttering dazedly "Vwat? Vwat are you doing?"

Japan meanwhile, had let his nosebleed drip down his chin, checking the picture on his phone that he had just taken while the two were... ehm... _distracted_.

Carefully placing his stuff away in his pocket, he pulled out a sketching pad and pencil and made his way to Italy's room while thinking, "Yatta, new material!"

**The End**

* * *

**_Sicuramente, la mia bello_** = Certainly, my beautiful

**_Bene_** = Good/OK

**_Sedersi, mio fratello_** = Sit down, my brother

_**Mio fratello sta andando ottenere qualche tempo felice in camera da letto stasera ~**_ = My brother is going to get some happy time in the bedroom tonight ~

**_Ciao_** = Hello/Bye

**_Si, Bella!_** = Yes, Beautiful!

**_Sì il mio amore, mi porti a letto e farmi piacere_** = Yes my love, take me to bed and please me


End file.
